He saw them in his garden
cooking up word concoctions
To put fatal kill spells on him.
They were mad he called them out
For their evil designs against anyone
Who disagreed with them.
But they picked the wrong prey
And knew nothing about
Who he really was and
The power he possessed,
His true identity hidden.
Just as they began chanting
Spells empowered to kill him
They screamed in horror
As their bodies evaporated
And they felt the blunt force
Of his advanced wizardry.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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